sleepless
by finaljoy
Summary: When it is dark and she's nervous and can't sleep, he soothes her butterflies. Shameless Nick/Mia fluff.


_AN OH HEY LOOK ANOTHER ONE SHOT._

_but what do you mean I can write fluff as well as angst? BUT NO SERIOUSLY I JUST REALLY REALLY LOVE PRINCESS DIARIES ESPECIALLY THE SECOND ONE BECAUSE IT IS PERFECT AND ADORABLE AND I JUST HAVE A LOT OF VERY GROWN UP HAPPY FEELS OVER A KID'S MOVIE. THE END._

_PLUS CHRIS PINE SO YES._

* * *

Sometimes, when Mia was nervous and couldn't sleep, he would soothe her butterflies.

Mia never expected the couple of quiet, polite raps on her door, but never seemed to be surprised when they came. Nick would open the door and slipped to her bedside, his shoes making no more than a murmur on her carpet.

Every time Nick came to stand quietly by her, she would consider not rolling over and giving him a sheepish grin, instead pretending to really be asleep. She always wondered how he would respond, whether he would call her out on it, or maybe brush some hair from her face, kiss her gently on the forehead and then retreat from her room. But then she would willingly roll over and look at him at his whisper of "Your Highness," then sit up and take his politely proffered hand.

The first time he had led her down, they had been engaged. The two of them had decided on a longer styled engagement, allowing them a bit more time than a month to get to know each other. Plus Mia was still suffering whiplash from the dating, proposal, queen training, near wedding, heart break, heart healing, and crowning that happened in the span of a month. Nick had been happy to oblige, as he was exceptionally tired of trying to force Mia into doing what she didn't want to do. Mia's grandmother had been so delighted that Nick had come into his true self, and that Mia acknowledged what she had been feeling in an entirely proper and least tabloid worthy way possible, that she didn't really care when they got married. After that, no one else really mattered (Nick didn't ask his uncle about the matter, had hardly spoken to the man since Mia's almost wedding. She never brought it up).

Mia was admittedly a little leery that first time he appeared in her room, not sure what he had wanted. He just smiled, though, said "Good evening, Highness. I was wondering if I might be granted the honor of spending the next hour with you." She had hesitated, watched him gesture to the door, then got up.

They had taken the stairs down to the beautiful antiquated kitchen, trying to smother giggles and glances at each other. Mia still had some reservations, not to mention embarrassment, as she carefully followed him down the stone steps, because he was of course pulled together, even at two fourteen in the morning. His shoes clacked elegantly on the floor, a very different sound from the slight shuffle of her pink furry slippers. Nick hadn't cared, though, that she was wearing old pink and orange pajama pants from her days in San Francisco and a camisole without even the saving grace of a bathrobe.

She stayed in place though as he looked over his shoulder, casting her his devilishly handsome smile and purring "Trust me, my queen," and when he pulled out the apron and a loaf of bread, she stopped worrying.

"So, it's not even two thirty in the morning, and we're doing what in the kitchen?" she asked, settling at the counter. Nick smiled, pulling out a carton of eggs and deftly cracking them into a bowl.

"I believe, Mia, that I am preparing to cook, and you're watching."

"Most people would think that's a little odd."

"Ah, most people," he said, giving a small chuckle as he nodded, looking down at the egg he was now whipping together with some milk and spices. "No, most people would not advise French toast at two twenty-three in the morning when you're unable to sleep. Something about waking other people up, or maybe gaining a few extra pounds."

He raised an eyebrow and made a face at her, one that asked 'can you believe the things people worry about these days?', making her chuckle. Mia was playing along now, raising an eyebrow in return and giving a sarcastically surprised "Oh?" She sat down at a stool, crossing her legs and watching his hands skate over the counters, turning on the stove, pouring oil into a pan, slicing bread and expertly cutting it into slices. There was magic in his ability to do all of that without seeming to even think about it, she was certain of it. Not to mention it being something she would have enviously sighed over when she was sixteen and could barely walk across her high school without tripping.

"Yes. But thankfully for you, Queen Mia," Nick said, looking at her as he dipped bread into the batter, "I am not most people."

"And how's that?"

"Most people are idiots," he told her frankly, and Mia laughed again. That was something she hardly ever saw any more. People hadn't been completely open with her since she had come back to Genovia, at least not without the delicate layer of manners or pretense of politeness. Not her grandmother, her advisors, and definitely not servants or dignitaries. Not even Lily, who generally just blurted whatever was on her mind. The immediate role of being queen commanded that she be respected and treated tactfully, least she seek retaliation. And that mentality had only been strengthened when she was crowned. Everyone tiptoed now, making her want to scream and run back to America, just so someone could speak to her with a borderline hostile bluntness.

Everyone tiptoed except Nick.

He was never rude about it, at least not overly, but he was so distinctly honest that it hit Mia like cold water. Not a bad thing, more of a shock that receded into refreshment.

"See, they would suggest a glass of water, or soothing music, or heaven forbid, counting sheep," Nick continued, unaware of her reflections. "I, on the other hand, recognize that a hot, delicious meal will do the trick."

"And the presence of someone absolutely infuriating to wear me out," she teased, making him grin and step closer.

"It's only infuriating because we're not married yet."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, yes it is," he said, mimicking her and resting his elbows on the counter, then placing his chin on his fists.

"You're telling me you will stop being infuriating and magically become cute when you're my prince consort, and not just my fiancé?" she asked, trying not to squeal internally at how adorably pleased he looked when referred to as her prince consort.

"Well, cuter. We both know I'm already cute," he told her, ignoring her over stated eye roll. Nick gave a small shrug, saying "It'll simply be better all around when I graduate on to being 'prince consort' and not just 'fiancé'. Rights, tax benefits, fewer biting looks from the general palace staff… Plus, your grandmother won't be forced to reinstate beheadings if I tried anything disreputable with the queen."

Mia's mouth dropped open and she slapped his shoulder, trying to press down her laugh as he danced away, practically giggling at her shock. She spluttered out something like "Go back to your stove!" and shooed him away, trying to assess just how pink her cheeks had turned.

"Forget Grandma, Joe will probably do the job before the rumors even get going," she retorted, just to wipe the smugness out of him.

"Mm, that's true. I can just see the headlines," he said, turning serious for a moment. "'Fiancé of Queen of Genovia, found washed up on a beach. Notable lack of head,'" he said, turning a piece of French toast in the pan. Mia couldn't help herself and laughed, embarrassment mostly washed away.

"I genuinely believe that, too. You know, he actually threatened me before?"

She grinned at him as he glanced at her over his shoulder, blue eyes turning especially stark in apprehension at the thought. As he told her the story, exaggerating his evil plot to over throw her, Mia was suddenly struck by how much she loved him. Regardless of how they had first met, of the lengths he had gone through to destabilize her and ruin her previous engagement, regardless of all of that, Mia had grown to care about one Nicholas Devereaux irrevocably. She loved how he would slip into a room when she was absorbed in a book and would announce himself by reciting lines from talented and unknown poets. She loved the way he wasn't above making fun of himself, even when in conversation with a number of important dignitaries from all over the world. She loved how, when he had enough free time, he would casually walk around the capital and leave money for people to find, hidden in shops, in windows, in bushels of apples. She especially loved how he had been doing this for years, but had told no one about the practice, not even his uncle. At least, not until he invited Mia to accompany him on one such venture.

But most of all, what she loved most about him right now was the way he stayed up all night, not even bothering to change as he waited for the perfect time to enact his plan for making her French toast at two thirty in the morning. He had done all of this for her because she had a big day in court tomorrow, and was terrified she'd have a relapse of social anxiety and would have to run out of the room to puke. She had never mentioned it, but he just knew, knew that she would need something settle her nerves. Nick could read her like a book, even from the beginning, but he had never used it for his own gain when he had been trying to steal her crown.

Selfish as it was, Mia supposed that she also truly loved the fact that was willing to open himself up to her and tell her important facts about himself. Nick was undoubtedly a rather private person, but sometimes, when they were on walks or having little picnics or en route to some event, he would drop a little piece of himself in her hands. Casually he would tell her that he genuinely had thought himself at first better than her when it came to ruling Genovia because of where he had grown up, or that he had been afraid of thunderstorms until he was nearly twenty, or had to binge on American movies from the fifties and sixties after big events to get rid of stress. He would never look back, never hitch his step as he left little bits of himself in her care as if it were the most natural thing in the world, while she nearly fell over from the significance of the gesture.

"Now, my queen, I present to you Lord Devereaux's Special Two Thirty French Toast," he said, overly serious and adopting a stiff, refined accent. She responded by straightening and waving a stately hand before her and saying "Lord Devereaux, we allow you to proceed."

Nick set the still hot French toast on a plate before Mia, supplying syrup, powdered sugar, milk, cups and silverware while she tried not to burst into laughter. He sat in the stool opposite from her, stacking a few pieces of French toast onto his plate. Nick ate them with her, and though he tried to smother a look of bashful pride when she sighed over how absolutely amazing! the French toast was, Mia caught it with both hands. She couldn't help giving a small smile as they ate, drinking in the moment. It was the simple distraction from the day she had ahead, but it was warm and sweet and wonderful, and of course, utterly unassuming.

When they finished, and after Mia had helped Nick wash the dishes, he led her back upstairs. A part of Mia wished that they could stay down there for forever, with the rest of the palace asleep and utterly oblivious to their late night meal. But it was almost three in the morning, and she did have a big day in court in just a few hours. That still didn't prevent Mia from regretting that though she was queen, she still did not have the power to freeze time.

Nick escorted Mia to her door, gave an elegant bow, and small kiss on the cheek.

"Until tomorrow, my queen," he said as she slipped into her room. And as hard as she tried, Mia could help but give him a shy smile as she slowly, slowly shut the door.


End file.
